When a band gets as big as Fontaines D.C. got with Romance, it usually either plays it safe or panics. The Dublin five-piece of Grian Chatten, Carlos O’Connell, Conor Curley, Conor Deegan and Tom Coll does neither on their fifth album. They started writing it while still touring Romance in 2025, and Chatten seriously considered a rootsy left turn before deciding there was more to dig out of the territory Romance opened up. By Uncut’s count they wrote around 40 songs, then cut them down to eleven tight, unsettling tracks in about 44 minutes.

The making of it is half the story. Chatten wrote the lyrics during a short, intense trip through Vienna and Venice. The band tracked the music with producer James Ford at Decoy Studios in Suffolk, and then Chatten and Ford flew to a house in Palermo to cut the vocals in a makeshift booth built from mattresses and cushions. Venice in particular stayed with him, and he spent time there thinking about how great civilizations slide into decay. You can hear that rot-and-grandeur tension all over the record.

Sonically, this is the band’s most synthetic album. Ford’s credits read like a vintage synth shop inventory (ARP 2600, Buchla, Moog, Therevox), Marta Salogni adds tape-machine manipulation across half the tracks, and string arrangements thread through five songs. The guitars haven’t disappeared. They’re just buried in the fog now.

The subject is the phone in your hand. Chatten has described the grotesque convenience of dosing yourself with dopamine from a screen. He also said he deliberately left the hope out this time, framing the record as a “catastrophic warning.”

It opens with the low, churning dread of “Six Shot Morning.” From there it goes to “Marianne,” which became the band’s highest-charting UK single (peaking at No. 19) and climbed to No. 4 in Ireland. “Happy for You” is a breakup song delivered as poisonous politeness that waltzes into a blowout finish. “Tongue” is the jittery, sharp-edged one, along the lines of “Starburster.” The centerpiece is “Where Is Gone?” with Rosalía. It’s the band’s first-ever collaboration: she recorded her part while touring the U.S. and sent it back within 48 hours, and Chatten compared her to Bowie and Björk. The record unfolds in distinct halves, more insular, slower and darker than anything since Skinty Fia.

If your shelf runs from Disintegration to Mezzanine to late-’80s Depeche Mode, this belongs next to them. Critics largely agree, with an 85 Metascore signaling universal acclaim. Not every fan is on board, and some miss the guitars. That friction is exactly what makes it a record worth sitting with on vinyl, front to back.